


golden ages

by burnshoney



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Courting Rituals, F/M, Family Fluff, First Kiss, LITERALLY JUST FLUFF. IT'S FLUFF. IT'S WHAT HARROW DESERVES, Marriage Proposal, Married Life, Pregnancy, Royalty, it's still january 20th somewhere in the world shut up this counts, one (1) mention of callum's father, pls just take my meager harrai family offerings i miss them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22345171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnshoney/pseuds/burnshoney
Summary: Five times Harrow gets to take his family to his favorite spot and the one time he can't.
Relationships: Harrow/Sarai (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 42





	golden ages

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday harrow!! this fic is literally nothing but family fluff and i absouletly adore it even though it's now 2am on january 21st where i live and i feel ashamed i didn't get this published _on_ his birthday. but no matter!! let's just all pretend y'all and i live on the west coast where it is still, in fact, january 20th. deal?
> 
> enjoy!! 
> 
> (also pls ignore the fact that callum a) calls harrow "dad" in this fic a LOT despite canon saying he never did - shut up i say he did all the time as a kid and b) is quite articulate for his age. i'm gonna claim creative license and him being an exceptionally smart kid)

_one._

Sarai laughs, the sound welling up from her chest. It's a giddy thing that slides off her tongue when she stumbles over another patch of uneven ground. One hand on her lower back and the other grasping her elbow to guide her, Harrow curses under his breath.

"Where are we going?"

Harrow chuckles. "So impatient! You'll see in a moment."

The thing between them is as new and fragile as a baby bird and the way the Prince treats her is a testament to his kind, careful hands cupped around the bird's wings. Sarai's seen him around Callum, the longing and love in his eyes already.

She's never been surer of anything.

Callum needs a father and Sarai knows she can't find anyone better to fill those shoes than Harrow. Heaven knows the Prince is all too eager to take the role with an enthusiasm that warms Sarai's chest every time she sees it in action. Yet, it's so much more than that. Callum adores him but so does _she._

He's already presented her son with the finest charcoal pencils and parchment for his scrawlings. Sarai knows for a fact that Harrow tucks every single one of his artworks into his desk and has seen them on the walls of his chambers.

Her foot catches on something and she pitches forward again, laughing. "Should I be worried? We've been walking for a while."

"I promise it'll all be worth it," he murmurs into her ear. "Trust me."

Sarai doesn't have to think before she answers. 

"Always."

Even without seeing it, Sarai knows the Prince is smiling widely, looking thoroughly like a lovestruck fool she'd very much like to kiss, traditions and courting rituals be damned. 

"So how'd you convince Amaya to babysit Callum for the night?"

Harrow laughs. "I think you have the story messed up, darling. She was the one who jumped at the opportunity when I came to her and insisted she take him. You underestimate her love for him. Callum's aunt is wrapped around his little finger."

"I sometimes forget how it used to be," she agrees and ducks her head when he gently instructs her too. Leaves brush against her hair. "For a while, it was just Amaya and I with Callum and I guess she's missed him. She loves it here, as a soldier, as do I! But those two have always been as thick as thieves, even before Callum was born."

"Do tell."

Sarai sighs, smiling. "Did I ever tell you about how he would always kick whenever she rested her hand against my stomach? She never had to say a word and he just  _ knew  _ and would kick up a storm! Not even I nor his father could get him to kick for us. I think he knew Amaya long before he knew either of us and I don't know how."

For a moment it's quiet as Harrow and her chuckle. "You must miss him."

He doesn't have to say anything for her to know exactly who the Prince is talking about. Sarai nods, smile sliding into something a little more bittersweet. "I do, but I remember how much he loved Callum and told me before he died that he knew I would find someone else who loved our son as much as he did."

Beside her, Harrow stops and Sarai can't refuse the urge to slide the blindfold off her eyes. The Prince is looking at her with tears in his eyes and her heart aches. "Harrow? Was it something I said? I'm sorry-"

"No," he chokes out and takes her hands, pressing kisses to the knuckles, "no, Sarai, you didn't upset me. _Thank you."_

She arches a brow. "Thank you? For what?"

"For letting me in," he says simply and his lips find the pads of her fingers, turning her palms over in his own. "For letting me part of your family - you, Amaya, Callum."

"Of course." Sarai slips a hand from his to cradle his cheek and leans up to kiss him.

She's afraid for a split second she's stepped over a line that's been established - he a Prince and her a widowed Captain of the Crown Guard with a fatherless child and no home, the red string between them easily snapped from the knots in their chests - but after a heartbeat Harrow kisses back with the fierceness of a man who's got everything to lose.

It's then that Sarai knows, a feeling, a knowledge deep in her navel.

She loves Prince Harrow.

Eventually, they have to separate for air and Harrow rests his forehead against hers, a forehead that will one day carry a circlet representing an entire kingdom and people. Sarai reaches up and tangled her fingers in the baby hairs at the nape of his neck and on her tip-toes, smiles at him.

He returns the smile and his lips ghost across her forehead, where she's pushed the blindfold. "At this rate, we won't get there before Callum uses up all the parchment I gave Amaya. I don't know what she'll do then, no matter what kind of beyond-human bond her and he have."

Sarai's laugh bubbles out of her. She steps back, nods, mock seriousness on her features.

"Lead on then, Prince Harrow."

He sweeps into a bow. "It would be my pleasure, Captain Sarai."

The blindfold slips back over her eyes and if Harrow walks closer to her, his chest pressing into her shoulderblade as they travel, neither one of them says anything. Whatever unspoken thing they've danced around for weeks has been addresses and Sarai resists bringing her fingers to her lips to convince herself it wasn't a dream.

It's only a few more minutes before Harrow stops and she does, too. His full chest is firm against her back and she's already giddily smiling. It feels impossible not to smile.

"You can take off the blindfold now," he murmurs into her ear and Sarai pulls it off and gasps at the sight before her.

The midday sun beats down on her but she doesn't even notice. Harrow has set up a picnic among the roots of an old oak tree that's shaded by the large leaves and nearby, she can hear running water babbling. She takes one step forward, then another, and another, until her feet are on the edge of the blanket spread along the roots.

"It's beautiful," she breathes and turns. "I love it."

Harrow's smile is shy but _oh_ so bright. "I was hoping you would," he says, reaching for her and she lets herself be drawn in. "I'm sorry it had to be here, though. I did the best I could."

He guides her to sit and does the same but Sarai frowns.

"What do you mean?"

He shrugs. "This is still technically on royal grounds so I'm allowed to be here with you, alone. Anywhere outside the grounds and I would've been required to bring a guard - for safety reasons."

"Seems you brought one anyway," Sarai laughs and takes the plate he's handed her, immediately picking up the jelly tart over anything else. Harrow's rumbling laughter is pleased.

"Oh?"

She nods, setting down her plate and leaning in. "You forget I'm the Captain of the Crown Guard. We could go anywhere we like because you already have a guard with you."

Harrow's face goes blank for a moment before he's groaning, dropping his face into his hands and Sarai laughs pleasantly. "You didn't realize-?"

"You're awful," he informs her haughtily and he leans in first this time, traditions and courting rituals be damned.

* * *

_two._

When there's a knock on the door, Harrow scrambles for the first drawer at his desk. "Harrow? You in there?"

"Yes!" he calls and closes the drawer the second before the door swings open. Smiling wildly, Sarai appears in the doorway and leans against the frame.

"Guess what?"

Harrow tries to tamper down the jackrabbit of his heart. "What?"

"I got Callum to bed with only two stories tonight with Amaya to watch him if he wakes _ and," _ she continues, drawing out the word before plopping the basket in her hand onto the desktop, being careful to avoid the inkpot, "the baker left  _ these  _ unattended to."

She peels back the cloth to reveal six jelly tarts, still steaming slightly from the oven and looking ready to burst at the seams. Harrow's mouth waters - he's never loved jelly tarts  _ or  _ persimmon this much before but even the smell has started to remind him of Sarai.

The Captain of the Crown Guard smirks down at him and he stands only to kiss her across the desk. Unsurprisingly, there's a smear of jelly at the crease of her lips and he smiles into her mouth.

"Snack for the road?"

Sarai chuckles against his lips. "It's a transportation tax."

"I guess I'll have to carry them then," Harrow laughs and when Sarai snatches away the basket, he slips his hand into the desk, fingers closing around his mother's ring.

Queen Aileen had cried when he told her his wishes to marry Captain Sarai. The twice-widowed monarch had clutched his hands and dropped her ring into his hand, the other around her neck. "She's perfect," his mother had said and he had grinned before pulling her into a hug.

"I know."

They sneak through the shadows in the corridor and it's all too easy to slip out the kitchen. Hands clutched in the other's, they walk until the grass brushes their waists and she breaks into a run.

"I bet I'll get there first!"

"Not fair!" Harrow yells, laughing, and takes off after the woman. Shrieking laughter greets him as Sarai lifts her skirts and takes off, slipping through the grasses and over the branches he stumbles over like a wood nymph. 

It's inevitable, though, that he catches up to her. The sun has set, painting the sky in soft yet bold shades of orange and red when he wraps two arms around her waist. Sarai shrieks as he lifts her without warning. _"Harrow!"_ She yells, breathless giggles bubbling over her lips. "Put me _down!"_

"I'm sorry my Lady," he chuckles and shifts so her back and knees press into his forearms, "but I can't do that."

"By whose orders?"

"The Prince's," he smirks and she captures his lips.

The kiss is soft, chaste, the chase of jelly combined with the tea he had drank while trying to figure out a recent trade agreement. The tea hadn't helped but Sarai pulls back. "You drank my tea."

"Your tea? I'm sorry, m'Lady, but I have not the faintest idea what you mean."

Sarai chuckles before she's smacking at his hands. "Let me down and I'll show you what I mean."

"But we're almost there Lady Sarai!" Harrow pouts and shifts to carry her almost bridal style. She loops her arms around his neck, still giggling and he smiles goofily when she presses a kiss to his cheek. "It's the proper thing to do, after all."

"Where is  _ there? _ "

"Still so impatient," Harrow chides and she scowls playfully but then he stops walking. "And I think you know where."

For the first time, Sarai looks around and her breath catches. It's just before dusk, the sky a dusty pink and orange as it frames the field before them.  _ The field. _

"It's..." Sarai trails off as Harrow lowers her to the ground. She studies the space beneath the tree, the brook, how fireflies have already begun to glow and dance in the air around them. She stretches out her hand, staring wide-eyed when one lands in her palm and blinks rapidly. "It's  _ our  _ place."

"It is, Lady Sarai."

She snorts, turning. "Harrow, you know you don't have to call me  _ Lady _ -"

"-then let me make it  _ Princess _ ," he finishes and watches her breath stutter to a halt in her throat as she takes in the image of him, before her, kneeling in the tall grasses of the field. He's framed by fireflies, by the sky, by the castle in the distance that will one day be  _ his _ as he holds out a small velvet box and opens the lid.

The ruby gleams brightly and Sarai brings her hand to her mouth. "Harrow - what are you  _ doing _ -"

"Please," Harrow says softly, halfway to crying himself. "Please, let me finish Sarai. I've loved you since-"

"YES!"

It explodes out of her like a gunshot and she catches Harrow's stunned expression before she's slamming into him. Wrapping her arms around his neck Sarai tackles him back into the grasses and all the breath leaves him at once in the sweetest of ways.

Her nose bumps into his cheek and her teeth scrape against his lip. "Yes yes yes," she chants between messy pecks and he holds onto the box in his hand like his life depends on it while holding her against him. "Yes! Yes, Harrow,  _ yes!  _ I'll marry you."

He presses up into the kiss. "You didn't even let me finish my speech," he whines against her lips and she laughs tearily. He sits up, taking her with him and presses his free hand to the small of her back. "Can I finish it now? Just so my mother will be content when I tell her later?"

Sarai giggles as he clears his throat.

"Captain Sarai of the Crown Guard, Lady of the Court, sister to quite frankly the scariest woman I've met and mother of the cutest little boy ever, will you do me the honor of becoming Princess Sarai by my side?"

She cups his cheek and Harrow hadn't realized he was crying until now but it doesn't matter because she's crying too when she leans in and captures his lips. He sighs against her. 

"You didn't answer me," he mumbles. Sarai's laughter is giddy and wild when she pulls back, hands at his lapels.

"Yes," she murmurs and their foreheads rest together. "Yes, Prince Harrow, I'll marry you."

They both hold their breath when Harrow slides the ring onto her finger. Sarai admires it, still in his lap and he follows her gaze. Suddenly she's frowning and sharply looking up at him. "Amaya isn't  _ that  _ scary!"

Harrow's laughter booms through the field.

* * *

_three._

It’s an early summer afternoon, the kind of balmy weather that slides beneath thin layers and whispers across flushed cheeks, leaving a sheen of sweat and the bees humming lazily. Over the sound of the stream babbling happily over moss-slick rocks, flattened by the steady current, Harrow can hear Callum’s laughter as he tramples through the taller, reedy grasses. 

Sarai’s body shakes with laughter and he smiles, too, a languid thing. He’s stretched out on the blanket, head pillowed in his wife’s lap as her - _their_ \- son frolics and sends butterflies into flight. 

Birds sing merrily above their heads, calling to their young and to their mates, a back and forth that Harrow can’t understand but indulges in anyway. A fat bumblebee rumbles by his ear and he wrinkles his nose at the pollen that dusts onto his face, as light as a lover’s kiss. Somewhere in the distance cicadas scream but it’s muted, low, and Callum’s high giggles ring through the air like music. 

He hums lowly as Sarai scrapes her fingers gently against his scalp. All three of them had left their royal robes behind in favor of thin shifts and leggings rolled to their knees and above him, Sarai sighs as she circles her nails across his head. Harrow opens one eye, blinded for a split second by the sunlight shafting in through the large leaves of the old oak they’re under. Lunch sits forgotten and left to the ants on the other side of the blanket, the warmth of the long August day filling their bellies instead. 

“Sarai? what’s wrong?”

She looks down at him. Her hair spills over her shoulder in a curtain of chestnut and clove, smelling like her bath from the night before and the lavender sprig that he had tucked behind her ear as they made their way to this spot. 

“He’s lonely,” Sarai murmurs and looks up. Harrow follows her gaze to find Callum sitting cross-legged on a log, talking to a frog that sits on a lily pad nearby. The toddler is dragging a stick through the water and although Harrow isn’t close enough to hear what he’s saying, he knows they both already know. 

Callum’s wished on every star he can find every night for a little sibling - _sister or brother is okay,_ he had reassured the night sky after his bedtime story, _but I want a brother please._ Harrow and Sarai have exchanged glances each time over his mop of chocolate hair, cuddled into both sides of the little boy, his shoulders pressed to their elbows. 

Harrow loves Callum with his entire being, loves him as much as he loves the woman who he came from. He’s wished for this before, for another little one that would keep Callum company as he grew and that Harrow would get to be there for all the things he never had the chance to with Callum. 

“He is,” Harrow says back, his eyes firmly on the little boy. “Should I go over?”

Sarai shakes her head. “No, leave him be. He seems to be having a very serious conversation with that frog and I wouldn’t want you to interrupt.”

They both chuckle at that and Harrow finds he can’t look away from Callum. From where he’s laying he can see the toddler’s profile - his curved little nose, the part of his lips as he talks with a slight lisp that makes Harrow’s heart burst whenever he hears it, the almond shape of his eyes that looks so much like Sarai and Amaya, a trait he's inherited from his grandparents.

It’s quiet for a moment, letting the rustling of the wind fill the space between them and their conversation and the breeze ruffles Sarai’s tunic, slightly too big for her shoulders. She had stolen it from his drawer and he thinks to himself he’ll let her keep it. She looks better in it, anyway.

“What if he wasn’t alone?”

Sarai’s fingers halt against his scalp. “Harrow-“

He sits up, turning to clutch her fingers in his own, words spilling from his mouth like honey. “What if he had a sibling? What if we gave him the one thing he’s asked for every night for a month? Sarai, he’s growing and I love him, _so much,_ but he needs someone else besides you and me.”

“Callum has Claudia and Soren,” Sarai says but he can see how her eyes glint already, just at discussing this topic. They’ve danced around it for long enough. 

Harrow shakes his head. He knows that she’s basically already won over but keeps talking because he finds over-explaining when she’s already almost said _yes_ is better than letting her say _no_. “They’re older than him, Soren by four years and Claudia by two. He loves them as playmates, yeah, but he needs a sibling. You said it yourself, he's lonely. Even with you and Amaya and I.”

They both look out to the field. Callum’s glumly dragging the same stick through the mud, cheek in hand, the frog gone from the lily pad. It must be enough because Sarai looks at him, brushing a hand over his lips. 

“Let’s give him a sibling, then,” she murmurs and Harrow’s smile could out-shine the sun. When he kisses his wife, Sarai tastes like jelly and lemonade, summer and happiness and love. 

His hands come to cup her neck and her own frame his cheeks. He deepens the kiss, her tongue sliding over the seam of his mouth as he leans closer-

“Ew _yuck!”_

Sarai breaks the kiss laughing and Harrow chuckles too, turning. Callum stands at the edge of the blanket spread out among the grass and oak tree roots, face screwed up in disgust. "Gross," he grimaces and as Sarai buries her face in his shoulder, giggling, cheeks stained with the embarrassment at being caught _by their own son_ Harrow smirks slowly.

"Oh yeah? What's gross?"

"You and Mommy!" Callum says and blows a raspberry. Harrow playfully gasps with pretend hurt, holding a hand to his chest.

"You'll pay for that!" he growls and Callum shrieks with laughter as he toddles off, Harrow not far behind.

Sarai leans back on her hands, laughing, watching her two boys chase each other through the grass until Callum barrels back into her arms. "Help!" he screeches and she holds her baby boy to her chest as _she_ chases Harrow around, this time.

* * *

_four._

"I'm fine,” she grouses but it’s with a smile as she bats his hovering hand away. “I’m pregnant, Harrow, not incapable of walking."

Princess Sarai is seven months pregnant and with every day, Harrow thinks she’s closer and closer to simply popping at the seams. Although she waddles more than walks now, it hasn’t stopped his wife from continuing her duties as princess and climbing into bed with Callum and he every night for storytime before bed. 

“Are you sure?”

Sarai pins him with a dry look. “You’ve already taken the basket from me and won’t let me carry the blanket. What are you going to do next, carry me?”

The second she says it she knows she’s made a mistake. A glint she knows all too well sparks in Harrow’s eyes and she takes a half-step back, hands held in front of her. 

“Oh no,” she warns, waggling her finger at her husband even as she backs away, “No no nonono -  _ Harrow!” _

Her protests are cut off by surprised laughter as Harrow dumps the picnic basket into the tall grass and scoops her up like she weighs nothing - which Sarai knows is false. The bed creaks when she climbs into it and Harrow won’t let her take the initiative anymore whenever they’re in the mood and both have the time, rather laying her back in the sheets and making sure she's propped comfortably before kissing anywhere other than her cheeks.

Sarai shrieks with laughter, looping her arms around his neck. “Harrow! Put me down!”

Her husband pretends to think for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t think I will,” he smiles and the arm underneath her back disappears for a moment to pick up the picnic basket. 

She tries to school her face into something flat. 

“I'm heavy.”

“No you’re not.”

“There’s a whole human being inside me!" she laughs incredulously, "who is  _ your  _ crown heir so if being your wife simply isn’t enough then I and this little one order you to put me down, as Princess and to-be Prince."

She’s smiling without thinking and Harrow looks down at her. “Tell our little peanut then it’s for their mother’s own good and I outrank them so I say no." The rest of what she's said registers. "Also, Prince? You think it's going to be another boy?"

Instead of responding, Sarai sticks out her tongue and tucks her head into the crook of Harrow’s neck. The summer sun is starting to beat down and warm the skin beneath her shift and she lets her eyes flutter closed. 

This is... _nice_. She would never admit it but the way Harrow's holding her is putting less strain on her shoulders and he's literally lifted the weight from her feet so Sarai doesn't fight him _too hard._ She's never been the one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Up ahead, Callum must turn around and see her in Harrow’s arms because he crashes back towards them through the grasses where he'd frolicked ahead. She opens her eyes to him pouting up at her. “Is Mommy okay?”

“Mommy’s okay, baby,” Sarai laughs. “Daddy just wanted to be silly and carry me and the peanut as well as the basket.”

"And the blanket," Callum points out before his pout deepens, "but that's heavy, Daddy!" Sarai jabs at Harrow’s chest with a self-satisfied smirk. 

“Told you.”

Harrow playfully straightens up, puffing out his chest and Callum giggles. "Nothing is too strong for me! Not when it comes to my family."

"Pick me up, then!"

Sarai can't help just cackle at the surprised look on her husband's face at that. He raises an eyebrow, looking down at the toddler in front of them. "Uh, what buddy?"

"Carry me!" Callum exclaims and lifts his arms. "Up!"

"Prince Callum is waiting," Sarai teases and Harrow groans but it's entirely good-natured, which the toddler seems to understand by his little snicker. Harrow kneels and grins when Callum wraps his skinny little arms around his neck and his ankles just under where his step-father's arms are supporting Sarai's back.

"Hold on tight!" Harrow shouts and then he's standing. Callum's whooping laughter crashes over Sarai as Harrow starts to trudge through the grass again to their spot by the brook and she gazes up at her husband, her son as she lays a hand on her protruding belly.

As if he can read her mind, Harrow looks down at her and she watches his gaze soften when it lands on how she cradles her belly. He presses a kiss to her forehead when they reach the spot and Callum clambors down, insisting on spreading out the blanket _himself._ To Sarai's everlasting amusement Harrow sets her down as if she's made of glass and Callum presses close. "Can I hear the peanut, Mommy?"

She nods, smoothing her hand through his wild hair. Even at three years old, his hair is still as wild as he is."Go ahead," she murmurs and catches how Harrow grins widely at the sight of Callum putting his ear against her stomach, listening closely for his sibling as if the baby could speak. She smiles back at him.  _ Soon. _

* * *

_five._

"Mommy! Look!"

Sarai giggles. "I see darling! It looks wonderful."

Callum beams happily and bounds closer, stopping at the very edge of the blanket. He holds out the link of flowers for her to see the wilting flowers and crushed stems where his clumsy toddler fingers have woven them together but Sarai grins all the same. 

"Daddy helped me make it," Callum boasts and pleads at her with wide eyes. "Can I put it on Ezran, Mommy?  _ Please?" _

She doesn't have the heart to tell him no. 

"Alright," she concedes and shifts so that Ezran's head slips into the crook of her arm. "But be careful, baby. He's sleeping."

Callum nods, his cheeks set with quiet determination as he steps closer and Sarai watches him with a wide smile on her face. Even when Callum's fingers brush the crown of his head, barely covered in dark brown curls, Ezran doesn't move, just scrunches his face and coos slightly.

She's never seen Callum be so careful then when he sets the chain of daisies atop his little brother's head. It's too big, slipping down Ezran's forehead but he still doesn't stir and Callum grins up at her.

"I did it Mommy!" he whisper-yells and Sarai presses her lips to his forehead. "I did it without hurting Ez!"

"I'm proud of you, sweetie," she beams as Harrow pops up from the grass next to her, wearing his own crown of daisies. The bright yellow flowers are stark against the dark of his braids and Sarai shakes her head endearingly at the sight. Callum's giggles at his step-father's surprise are drowned out by Harrow's booming laughter that still, two years later, makes Sarai's heart warm. 

"What'd he do?"

"He crowned Ezran," Sarai says proudly before presenting a sleeping Ezran to Harrow, "look! See? Apparently, you helped him make it."

Harrow flops down onto the blanket with them and pulls Callum into his arms, pressing laughing kisses all over his face. Callum kicks in protest, squealing, but he's grinning the entire time and when Harrow releases him he doesn't go far.

At the sight of Callum pressing close to Harrow, Sarai finds herself softening even further. Snorting in his sleep, Ezran parts his lips slightly and Callum turns from where he's kneeling, trying to set his step-father's daisy crown on straight. "Mommy, can I hold Ez?"

"Not now, Callum," she murmurs but shifts so that he's tucked into one arm and she can extend her hand to her eldest son. Callum takes it and Harrow follows until they're both pressed to either side of her, all three of them staring down at the bundle in her arms.

Ezran's barely two months old but she knows he has all of them wrapped around his little finger - none more than Callum. Sarai remembers waking the first night Ezran had cried out, hungry, and blinked awake to find Callum already leaning over his crib, shushing him gently  _ so that Mommy can sleep! You'll wake Mommy and Daddy! _

After reassuring Callum that Mommy and Daddy didn't mind being awake and that everything was alright, Harrow had carried him back to bed as Sarai propped herself up in bed. She had carded her fingers through Ezran's sparse curls as he suckled and Harrow had slipped back into their bedchamber with a teary grin.

"He wanted to keep Ezran from waking us," Harrow had murmured before kissing her bare shoulder. He had sounded wonderous, dazed, as if he couldn't believe himself despite everything. "He wanted to make him stop crying and be happy. He told me that, you know Sarai?  _ He just wanted Ezran to be happy." _

Sarai had leant over to kiss her husband as Ezran made little happy, sighing sounds at her breast. "He loves his brother," she had murmured in agreement and they both looked down at the baby in her arms then, foreheads resting together.

Now they do the same and Callum's hand hovers. "He looks angry," he whispers. "Is Ezran happy, Mommy? Is he happy with us?"

"I know he is, baby," Sarai whispers and plants a kiss atop his head. He snuggles into deeper to her side. "I know he is. You're the best big brother he could ask for."

Next to her, Harrow nods. "Mommy's right. Ezran told me himself."

Callum's entire face lights up and he's rocking up to his knees from sitting on his heels.

"He did?!"

"Yup," Harrow confirms and Sarai sends him a playfully exaggerated glare as Callum bounces on his knees. "He did. Ezran told me you're a great older brother and that he loves you."

He looks gleeful for a moment before his face screws up in thought, nose wrinkling. "But what about you? And Mommy? Does Ezzie love you too?"

"Of course," Sarai chuckles, "of course he does Callum. But I think-" she lowers her voice, "-that you're his favorite  _ man." _

Callum hides a giggle behind his hand as Harrow pretends to gasp. "Sarai! How could you say such a hurtful thing?"

"It's true!" she insists through chuckles of her own and Callum climbs around his mother to settle in his step-father's lap.

"It's okay," Callum announces before snuggling into Harrow's chest and hugging him tightly, "I love you, Daddy. Like Ezran."

Young as he is,  _ Ezran  _ sounds more like  _ Ezan  _ and Harrow meets Sarai's eyes as he hugs his step-son back fiercly. "I know," he chokes and presses his face into Callum's hair. "I know you do, buddy. I love you too."

As if he knows he's being spoken about, Ezran blinks awake in her arms and cries out, demanding attention to Sarai's mirth. She cradles him close, kissing his forehead and smiling at Harrow as he does the same to Callum.

She knows they've both never been happier and wishes she could live right here forever or at least bottle up this exact moment up and save it for a rainy day.

* * *

_\+ one._

"No, Callum."

The step-prince's face contorts in rarely-seen anger. "DADDY! I WANNA _GO!"_

Harrow sighs, running a hand down his face and wishing for the hundredth time that Sarai was there. 

"We can't," he tries again and gestures to the way the rain runs down the windows of their bedchamber, rendering their previous plans to go have a picnic for dinner and catch fireflies until Callum and Ezran both fell asleep in their arms moot. "It's raining, buddy. We can't go out there. We don't want you to get sick."

"WANNA GO!"

There's a chuckle behind them and Harrow sags with relief as he turns around. "Oh good, you're back."

In the doorway, Sarai chuckles as she leans against the frame, taking in the sight of her husband - the _King -_ losing an argument with a five and a half year old. 

"What did I miss?"

Harrow points to the windows and then a pouting Callum on their bed and apparently she connects the dots because Sarai is laughing then. _"Oh,"_ she giggles, "oh, okay. Harrow, take Ezran. I'll talk to him."

"Thank you," Harrow says gratefully and trades the giggling one-year-old in

Sarai's arms plus the bag on her arm in passing. He bounces Ezran in the crook of his elbow and grins at the smell eminating from the satchel. "I'm guessing your...journey to the kitchens was successful?"

"Barius notoriously can't resist Ezran's puppy dog eyes," his wife smiles victoriously from where she's kneeled by the side of their bed.

Harrow snorts, setting down the bag to switch Ezran to his other arm and rifle through the content. He pops one lightly steaming jelly tart into his mouth with a contended sigh. "Can't resist Ezran's puppy dog eyes or an order from his Queen?"

Sarai's eyes twinkle. "Does it matter?"

On the bed, Callum crosses his arms with a quiet _hmph,_ demanding attention and Sarai turns back to him.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"Daddy says we can't go outside," he whines and his crossed arms loosen as tears shine in his eyes, "but I wanna go! Wanna show Ezran...wanna show Ezran how to catch fireflies and set down the blanket so it doesn't fly away."

At the end of the sentence Callum looks down and Sarai shakes her head. 

"Look at me, Callum."

He does and from his place over to the right of them, Harrow watches his wife smile. "It's okay to want to show Ezran all your favorite things about our place," she soothes, "but he's still too little yet and it's raining, so we can't tonight. But it's okay! We'll stay inside and have a picnic here."

Callum looks skeptic. "Picnic inside?"

Sarai nods, eager.

"Yes! We'll have a picnic in here and we won't just eat _on_ a blanket, we'll eat _in_ a blanket."

They both know Sarai's won with how Callum's eyes light up, tears and transgression forgotten. He sits up straighter, hands coming fully untucked from his armpits. 

"A blanket fort?!" he asks excitedly and Sarai matches his grin. "Can we build it together, Mommy?"

Sarai smiles over her shoulder at her husband before turning back to the little boy before her. 

"Of course!"

Harrow watches, grinning so widely the entire time his cheeks begin to ache, as Sarai and Callum pull the sheets off their bed and drag over the chairs from the connected study and drawing rooms. Books from his study appear on the chairs to hold the blankets in place and Sarai balances a vase he knows she secretly despises but was a wedding gift atop the books with a mischievous turn of her lips.

"Is it ready?" Sarai asks when Callum's crawled inside and not emerged yet. She waves over Harrow and he scoops up the satchel full of jelly tarts before coming over and handing her the bag. From deep inside the fort, slightly muffled by the blankets, Callum's voice is excited and high.

"Yes!"

They all pile in. It may not be their spot by the river, hidden by the oak trees, but instead of fireflies they catch words from Callum's favorite bedtime story and chase the moon across the sky. When Callum falls asleep in his arms while Ezran gently snoozes in Sarai's, they share a quiet smile and settle in for the night. Surrounded by blankets, warmed by the fire roaring across the room, surrounded by his family, Harrow falls asleep with a grin on his lips and the taste of persimmon on his tongue.

It's _perfect._


End file.
